"You did what?" My sister Emma gasps as I call her on my way home. I've got a half-hour commute on the train, so I usually ring her when I leave Union Station. It's just enough time to catch up on our days, though I know I'll be doing most of the gabbing during this gossip sesh today.

"I'm an idiot," I mutter, praying no one sits next to me as the train fills up. We got the project in by three, and I told Chase I'd spend the rest of the afternoon going bridesmaid dress shopping. I didn't even give him a chance to argue, just announced it with one foot out the door.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" Emma asks the same way she did when I agreed to be the planner.

"Do you know how hard it is to say no when three people are looking at you like you're their last hope?" I ask, glancing around to see if anyone's heading my way. Emma, of course, is a pro at saying no. Her kids even call her "Auto-No."

I drop my head against the cool glass window, relieved when the train starts moving and the seat next to me stays empty. I adjust my AirPod as my long ash-blonde hair tangles around it.

"Stella, Stella, Stella..." Emma mutters, and I can practically hear her shaking her head. "When are you going to drop this crush? I know you did it for Chase."

I sigh. Emma's the only one I've admitted my crush to. I figured my secret was safe with her. She lives forty-five minutes away and never shows up to my work functions. She met Chase once, at a Rockies game we went to as a company. Chase splurged for a suite, and my sister begged me to come as her date because we were playing the Cubs. She immediately understood why I found Chase's messy dark hair and those round brown eyes attractive. But she also thought he was goofy and a bit pretentious. I told her I liked that he was silly with his dumb jokes and, of course, professionally driven.

"He said I was his best friend today," I tell her, then add, "So, it makes sense to be in your best friend's wedding."

"Oh my god, is that what this is?" Emma gasps. "Are you trying to My Best Friend's Wedding this?"

"What?" I scoff loudly, glancing around to make sure no one's hearing me.

"He doesn't end up with Julia Roberts at the end, Stel. So, I seriously hope you weren't planning on sabotaging this Mexico trip to show Chase you're his one true love."

I don't tell her that's exactly what I was planning to do.

"That's...no. No, I am just...I am a master wedding planner. You know this, I worked for you. Why wouldn't I lend my expertise to my best friend?"

"I somewhat understood when you took on that role. You're an amazing event coordinator. I just don't understand why you took on this horrific idea?" My niece interrupts her rant and they deal with a Play-Doh fiasco while I quickly check my emails. I see Ainslee already sent me several links to dress sites and I notice the dresses are all in the two-hundred dollar range. I had already bought a fabulous tropical dress from Anthropologie last weekend that I was planning on wearing so I am just oh-so stoked to spend more money on this wedding. Emma finally gets back to me and says, "Sorry, Mads stuck a whole wad of dough in her hair. Look I just don't want you to get hurt out there. Unrequited love is brutal."

"It's not unrequited love, it's just...it's you know? Whatever, I have to dress shop so I'll let you go."

"Are you going to buy a blue dress?" She mocks and I glare at her even though she can't see me. I told her one time I gravitate towards blue clothing because it's Chase's favorite color.

"No, I unfortunately have to buy something pink."

"Stella, you are not a pushover. Honestly, you can be a bit scary and intimidating, but for some reason, you're a melted marshmallow when it comes to that man. I just don't want him to crush you or make things weird for you at work."

"I know, I know. I love my job, which is why I would never jeopardize it by outwardly going for Chase. Or by ruining his wedding," I say, exhaling sharply as the train slows down at the next stop just outside downtown. A crowd swarms on, and I know my empty seat is about to get snagged. "I'll call you tomorrow."

Emma makes Madison say goodbye, and then, as always, she spends two minutes blowing kissy noises into the phone before finally hanging up. I tuck my phone away and watch the city fade into the distance. As we glide toward the suburbs, I lean my head back and pop on a crime podcast. I try to lose myself in a murder case out of Ohio, but my mind keeps circling back to Ainslee. Her long, mousy blonde hair. Her perfect smile. Her standing in Mexico in a cream, lacy, barely-there gown, topped with a jewel-encrusted headpiece on her cascading waves.

I press pause on the podcast and close my eyes, but it's no use. For three months now, I've been trying to figure out what Ainslee has that made Chase Camden decide to settle down.

It happened so fast. He dashed into a nearby salon for a last-minute haircut before a big client pitch, and she just happened to be the stylist who draped that black cape around him. He came back to the office looking fresh and grinning like a kid who just found a golden ticket. At first, I thought he was excited about landing the client. Turns out, it was because of the cute hairstylist who swept him off his feet.

I shrugged it off at the time. Chase always has some girl who grabs his attention for thirty seconds.

But it lasted longer than thirty seconds. Suddenly, she was having lunch with him at the office and meeting up with us at Pip's after work. For years, happy hour had been our little group- just five of us. Then, out of nowhere, we became six.

I knew he was serious about her when he invited her to join our Thursday night Trivia League. That stung. When I'd found out Eloise was a trivia whiz and asked if she could join us, Chase had flat-out said no. "It's tradition," he'd insisted, reminding me that the team- me, him, Levi, and Henry from HR- had been set since the start of the season.

But somehow, Ainslee got a pass. Suddenly, our snug four-top at the bar, where we'd spent six months huddled over answer sheets, was abandoned. We were now lounging on a couch upstairs, far from the action, just to accommodate her.

He used to spend his lunch breaks with me, brainstorming event ideas, griping about high-maintenance clients, or laughing over some TV show we were both binge-watching. But now, all he wanted to talk about was Ainslee. He'd show me photos of them from their weekends with her making goofy faces, him looking at her like she hung the moon.

Even at work, she was everywhere. He'd dash outside on breaks to FaceTime her, or slip away to visit her at the salon down the street. And when he wasn't with her, he was glued to his phone, smiling at the silly memes she sent him throughout the day.

Every Wednesday, Chase and I used to hit up this amazing sushi spot for their unbeatable lunch specials. It was our midweek ritual, the one thing that made getting through the rest of the week bearable. Then Ainslee started coming along. What was once our easy, comfortable tradition became an awkward three-person ordeal.

Chase would joke to her that I was his "work wife," always in this breezy, non-threatening way. Ainslee never batted an eye at our dynamic, never seeming concerned or curious about how close we actually were. It was all a big, harmless office joke to her. To Chase, I was just his right-hand woman, his star employee, and his go-to for all things Havicore. But to me? He was so much more. And the fact that neither of them saw it drove me insane.

I close my eyes, trying to refocus on the cold case I'm listening to in my podcast, hoping the details will drown out my spiraling thoughts. But then my phone buzzes, snapping me out of it. I pray it's not work-related, please not a needy client asking for an impossible favor. Instead, it's somehow worse: Ainslee has added me to a group chat.

With a sinking feeling, I open the app and see that I've been officially welcomed into the bridesmaid chat. Ainslee has just announced me as her "fill-in bridesmaid," and the other five bridesmaids are flooding the chat with hearts and thumbs-ups in response. My phone vibrates like it's possessed, every notification a reminder of something I never agreed to.

I don't need this. I don't need to be part of every conversation about the bachelorette party or the wedding weekend. I already hear about it nonstop from Chase.

Resisting the urge to mute the chat, I type a quick, "Happy to be included! :) " and hit send. Polite. Short. Done.

But it's not done. My phone immediately erupts with more buzzing as the girls excitedly share pictures of the dresses they've bought and throw out ideas for the four days we'll be in Mexico for the bachelorette party, which, of course, leads straight into the three-day wedding extravaganza.

I was trying to get through three days of wedding hell. Now I am going to have to suffer for a week. I sigh dramatically, not caring if I disturb the man reading the newspaper next to me.

I shake my head and then realize I'll be with all of Ainslee's best friends and confidants for four days before the wedding. If I need to get some dirt to try and stop this wedding, the best way may be to do it from the inside.

Suddenly I am smirking. Wondering if I was just given a golden opportunity to prove that Ainslee Weiss isn't the perfect woman from Chase Camden after all.